<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Mother's Day by Angelily_Viventis</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243768">Mother's Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis'>Angelily_Viventis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [50]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Alan Rickman - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, Mother's Day, Mother-Son Relationship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sad, Size Difference, bipolar, deceased mother, reference to abuse, strained mother-daughter relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:09:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243768</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(Y/N) finds out about Alan's mother for the first time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alan Rickman - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [50]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mother's Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I'll talk to you later, Mum. Alright, love you, too. Happy Mother's Day, once again. Bye," (Y/N) ends the call and blows out an exasperated breath.</p><p>Talking to her mother has never been easy since they've never had a very good relationship. (Y/N)'s mother is bipolar and has been physically, emotionally, and mentally abusive in the past towards (Y/N). </p><p>Being the oldest of three siblings, (Y/N) would always make sure their mother's abuse was targeted towards her instead of her younger siblings.</p><p>That said, her mother - being bipolar - would usually only be abusive when she was experiencing a fit of rage or a 'black-out', resulting in her never remembering anything she did towards her eldest child.</p><p>After years of therapy, (Y/N) realised that there is no point in holding a grudge against a person who has no knowledge of anything, and that it would only negatively impact her own life rather than her mother's if she holds onto such anger and resentment. </p><p>It's difficult when the abused is the only one who knows what happened, who gets to live it through memories and physical scars, while the abuser gets to live the rest of their life peacefully. Which is why these calls on Mother's Day are so incredibly hard for (Y/N).</p><p>Her hands tremble slightly as she wipes away a stray tear from her cheek and sits back up on the couch, slowly placing the home phone back in its holder on the side table. </p><p>She can do with a long hug from Alan. </p><p>She wonders where her boyfriend is, remembering that he went out for a walk earlier before she called her mother. She vaguely remembers hearing the front door opening and closing.</p><p>Being it a Sunday, and she's in no rush to get anywhere, she lazily wanders up the stairs in search of Alan. She deliberately drags her heels across the hardwood floor, her mind wandering to past days. She passes by his office upstairs and stops after spotting him hunched over his desk with his back towards the door. </p><p>"There you are, I was wondering where you've been." </p><p>She shimmies towards him, slinging an arm around his waist as she rests by his side. She hears a sniff, and upon looking up at him, sees him fervently wiping away tears. He shrugs sheepishly and ducks his head, hiding the flush in his cheeks from his girlfriend's gaze. </p><p>"Darling," her tone immediately changes to worried. "What's the matter? What happened?" </p><p>He clears his throat before turning away from her, walking over to the bookcase. </p><p>"Nothing, I-I uhh..." </p><p>Clearly, he feels no need to finish his sentence. </p><p>She looks down to see what he was looking at on his office desk when she approached him seconds earlier. </p><p>Her hand runs over the layer of protective plastic covering the age-old photographs in the album. Photographs of what (Y/N) can identify as Alan and a much older female. </p><p>She attempts to read the handwriting below the photographs:</p><p>Alan and I. 1994. West London.</p><p>Wow, that's from before I was born... </p><p>The woman in the photograph has shoulder-length waves of hair, although she can't tell what colour it is since the photo is taken in sepia. Neither can she tell the colour of her eyes. But she can tell that the wide smile and cheeks resemble Alan immensely. </p><p>The realization hits her and she gasps silently. It is Mother's Day, after all. </p><p>"Is this... Al, is this your mum?" She veers on the side of caution.</p><p>"Y-yes," he sobs, immediately trying to claw back some sort of control over his emotions. </p><p>"Oh, darling..." she says softly. "Don't be embarrassed. You don't have to hide your tears from me," she walks over to him, gently touching his shoulder. </p><p>His one hand grips the bookcase with white knuckles while the other hand covers his wet eyes in shame. </p><p>"Come 'ere," she turns him around towards her before encircling her arms around his waist. </p><p>"I-- miss her... so much," he sobs into her hair while squeezing her tighter. </p><p>(Y/N)' s stomach twists in a knot at hearing Alan cry in so much sadness for the first time. </p><p>They stay like that for a few minutes, intertwined, and once she is sure Alan has stopped crying she pulls back and wipes at his wet cheeks, careful not to let her acrylic nails knick his skin. </p><p>Quietly, she leads him by the hand, takes the album off the desk, and settles them both on the plush sofa in front of the large window. </p><p>He feels numb as he is lead away by her soft hand.</p><p>"Tell me about her," she insists sweetly, tucking herself into his side. </p><p>He gives a breathy chuckle, immediately feeling like his old self again, before kissing her on top of her head. </p><p>"Well," he clears his throat, returning the album to the first page, "she lived in a council house just three tube stops away from here..."</p><p>"...I visited her regularly. My brother, Michael, co-owned the semi-detached house with my mother, and we would all get together every weekend for family suppers..." </p><p>(Y/N) looks up at Alan as his face shines reminiscing about his mother and his younger childhood days. </p><p>"She was a working-class matriarch. My mother was a tigress - fiercely protective of her children. I have immense pride for her," his voice breaks before his breathing starts to tremble. </p><p>"Take your time, love," she squeezes his bicep before flipping another page filled with photographs. </p><p>"This one..." he starts, pointing at a picture of an impeccably dressed Alan and his mother in an elegant black evening suit. </p><p>"This photo was taken the night I took her to the Phantom of the Opera on her eightieth birthday. She walked into the party afterward like the star she was," he smiles brightly, eyes glistening with tears. </p><p>"I've never seen anyone enter a room like that," he adds. </p><p>He proceeds to flip through the album, explaining each photograph of his mother and telling funny stories about her. </p><p>(Y/N) is surprised and quite stunned at seeing very private photographs of him as a young boy. Him at RADA. Him on stage at his school plays. Him naked in the tub. All closely guarded photographs kept out of the public's prying eyes. She feels honored that he would share this with her. </p><p>"When did she pass away, if you don't mind me asking?" She looks down shyly, embarrassed that she asked the question. </p><p>"Her... health first began to decline in 1995... And it just went downhill from then on until she passed away peacefully in 1997."</p><p>(Y/N) stays quiet as a lump starts to form in her throat at seeing Alan silently wipe away tears. Just listening to his childhood, although they didn't have it financially well-off, she still wishes she could have a relationship like that with her mother. </p><p>"I think..." she starts softly, "I think we should pay her grave a visit." </p><p>"I-I," he stammers in protest. </p><p>"When was the last time you visited her?" </p><p>(Y/N) sits up in order to look at Alan directly. She knows it's a sensitive subject, so she doesn't want to come off as confrontational. </p><p>Guilt overcomes him and a little hatred towards himself rises from within him. </p><p>She's right. I used to spend most of my time caring after my mother but after her death, I got busier and time flew by.</p><p>"It's been five years," he croaks, shamefully looking away. </p><p>"Right, then I think Mrs. Rickman is overdue for a visit. Come on, we can get her flowers on the way," she pulls Alan off the couch and out the door by his hand.  </p><p>They walk a short distance next to each other up Westbourne Terrace, left onto Chilworth Street, and finally left onto Cleveland Square until they reach the cemetery. </p><p>Luckily, it's not too chilly outside, but the couple still settled on wearing their matching black Melton coats. </p><p>Alan's stomach knots in dread with every row of headstones they pass. He knows he shouldn't be fearful - it's his mother, for god sake. Yet, he still can't help to believe deep down that she, albeit in spirit, resents him for not visiting her grave in five years. </p><p>He stops in front of a grey granite headstone. </p><p>"We're here." </p><p>"I can't believe I'm officially meeting your mum," (Y/N) voice betrays just how nervous she is. </p><p>"You don't have to be nervous, darling. She's dead," Alan replies dryly, knowing it would ease her. </p><p>He leans down, placing a small bouquet of flowers against the cool granite. </p><p>"Happy Mother's Day, Mum," he whispers brokenly. "I miss you." </p><p>Tears form in (Y/N)'s eyes at seeing the great actor experience such raw emotions. She wishes she could do anything to help him, to make him feel less guilt. She also knows that letting out the tears sometimes can do wonders. </p><p>She snakes her two arms around his arm and hugs him gently before stooping down and placing her own bundle of fragrant lavender on the headstone and straightening back up. </p><p>She knows lavender is Alan's favorite flower, and since his mother loved him, she figures his mother would love lavender a lot, too. </p><p>She trails her fingers over the edge of the stone, chocolate orbs fixated on the engraved letters. </p><p>Margaret Doreen Rose Bartlett Rickman. Born 6-12-1911. Died 16-02-1997. Beloved Mother and Wife. </p><p>Now she knows why Alan decided on purchasing the bundle of roses. </p><p>"She was," Alan continues in a quiet tone, causing (Y/N) to get pulled from her thoughts and look up at him. "Beloved, I mean." </p><p>She nods with a smile, "I'm sure she was." </p><p>"You would've loved her..." he walks up behind her, resting his chin on top of her head, holding her. </p><p>He takes a moment to breathe in (Y/N)'s scent from her COAH perfume. Mentally, he is telling his mother all about this wonderful woman he is currently holding in his tight grip.</p><p>"And I think she would've loved you." </p><p>"From everything you've told me today, she sounds wonderful. I wish I had known her back then," she holds onto his forearms. </p><p>Staring at the headstone, Alan's expression changes to somber.</p><p>"I still miss her," he says, letting go of his girlfriend. </p><p>"It's been years but it still hurts, you know?" His face contorts in pain as he picks at his fingernails. </p><p>At (Y/N)'s slow nod, Alan continues, "Sometimes I can still smell her perfume... Or I think I can see her... Out of the corner of my eye..."</p><p>A short pause before he continues again, "It kind of freaks me out." </p><p>"I can tell you took a lot of care with her. Strength of character is genetic, I believe. And if you're a testament of your mother then I can only imagine what a fine woman she was." </p><p>He smiles at her words. She was indeed a fine woman. A great woman even. </p><p>"May I ask you something?" </p><p>"Hm," he confirms, trailing his fingers over the engraved letters. </p><p>"Why have you never spoken about her before?" </p><p>Alan stills his motions. He stands upright, looking sincerely at her.</p><p>"I didn't want to say anything because I know how difficult Mother's Day is for you. I didn't want to add to your sadness." </p><p>She looks away ashamed that he knows everything about her strained relationship with her crazy mother, yet, him being such a private person, she knew nothing about his mother. </p><p>"For me?" She blinks back tears, looking back at him. "Al, I can't even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for you." </p><p>At seeing her sadness, he closes the distance between them and envelopes her in a tight hug. </p><p>"Besides, you'll never add to my sadness. I want to know how you're feeling. I want to know if you're having a bad day. I want to carry those emotions with you and help ease some of it off of you," she muffles into his chest. </p><p>At these words, Alan knows that (Y/N) is the one for him. Not once in their four years of being together has she judged him or second-guessed him. She didn't flee when things became heated with the media when they first started dating. She helped him transition from Rima. She's stood by him through thick and thin thus far. </p><p>He pulls her back from him, staring down into those dark pools. </p><p>"You're a saint... I love you." </p><p>Her stomach flutters as he leans down and gently kisses her lips. She can feel his raw emotions entangle in their kiss. </p><p>It's the first time he has said the 'L' word.</p><p>Excitement fills her as they pull away, and she looks up at him with a smile. </p><p>"I love you, too."</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>